


these unarmored parts

by defcontwo



Series: jaytim tattoo 'verse [4]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defcontwo/pseuds/defcontwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too many times, he’d look in the mirror and his scars were the first thing to draw the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these unarmored parts

Too many times, he’d look in the mirror and his scars were the first thing to draw the eye. The Joker left his mark all over Jason, wounds on the outside that healed far faster than the wounds on the inside, but still, he fixated on them. 

It’s an obvious solution, a personal choice to mark himself — to choose what draws the eye first. In an underground tattoo parlor in Hamburg, he sketched out his ideas on scrap paper, letting his accented German take over where his artistic skills failed. 

A turn of the century map of Northeast Gotham spreads across his left shoulder in swift black lines because the way he figures it, you’re not worth shit if you forget where you started out. The Bowery, Crime Alley — these places shaped him better than Bruce Wayne or the Joker ever could have, and he won’t flatter their egos to let them think otherwise. 

Intricate floral designs done up in bleeding red watercolors, living things grounding him, because against all odds, he is living and breathing and mostly whole.

Geometric designs, strategically plotted, every bit as careful as the painstaking work to build a bomb.

Black and red standing out bright against his freckled, scarred skin, and he looks in the mirror and sees something that he’s proud of, he sees something he chose — a life, a purpose, things that he will never apologize for.

But he never thought of them as attractive. Sentimental, yes, but the aesthetics were irrelevant until Tim traced his ink with an artist’s eye, until Tim pressed him against pale sheets and ran his thin fingers along every black line, pressed his mouth to the bright red of the flowers, and curved his lips into that sharp, clever smile. 

"Nice ink," Tim says, pressing a kiss to the nape of Jason’s neck, and Jason breathes in, and holds on. Like the flowers, like a living, growing thing, he is grounded.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] these unarmored parts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6448645) by [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




End file.
